


Tomorrow We Fight

by EleanoraMcKogane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Black Paladin Keith (Voltron), Blue Paladin Lance (Voltron), Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Fluff, Knight Keith (Voltron), Knight Lance (Voltron), M/M, Minor Keith/Shiro (Voltron), POV Keith (Voltron), Past Keith/Lance (Voltron), Soft Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanoraMcKogane/pseuds/EleanoraMcKogane
Summary: First published on Instagram (username: @/eleanoramckogane)





	1. Part 1

It’s the night before the final battle.

After years of struggle, years of so many losses and of blood shed in the name of peace, Keith feels peculiarly forlorn.

In the solitude of his tent, he can feel the tension of the upcoming fight brewing miles away, howling in the air like the silent cries of crows announcing the impending doom. He can feel it in his aching bones, in his scarred skin and in his wretched soul just how close to the end they all are – one more fight to decide their fate at last.

 _Death or triumph,_ there is no in-between.

Only now did he understand his enemy’s old mantra for only now did he feel it clenching his soldier’s heart.

In the quiet calm before the storm he hears a soft rustling outside his tent. He stands on alert, ears perked at the sound and hand immediately gripping the hilt of his faithful blade beneath his pillow. He shifts on his crude cot so he can face the entrance, eyes half-closed to give the fake impression of sleep  - _sleep,_ a luxury he had forgotten since the war had begun, his nights restless and plagued with endless bloodied nightmares.

Through the dimness of the night barely illuminated by the moonlight beaming sadly over their camp, he sees a hand peeping inside the opening of the tent and slowly pushing the fabric aside. Keith holds his breath and clenches his blade tighter in his hand.

It wasn’t the first time he had to fight off assassins in the middle of the night, the Galra desperate to kill the Paladins’ leader.

But the figure that emerges into the solitude of his despair makes his heart spike and tumble around in his chest, surprise coating his initial alarm.

He’d recognise that silhouette anywhere; the way it walked over to Keith in slow and deliberate steps inaudible in the night; _purposeful._

“Lance?” Keith’s voice is nothing more than a rasp murmur as he pushes himself up, sitting down and blinking to adjust his vision to the presence advancing towards him. “What are you doing here?”

“Sshh,” Lance puts a finger on Keith’s lips, shushing him quietly as his other hand gently brushes Keith’s dark bangs from his forehead.

His heart is so loud in his ears, pounding so heavily on his chest Keith thought it would make haste out of him. The press of Lance’s finger slowly rekindled a fire he was too scared to allow to burn.

When Lance speaks, his voice washes over Keith like honey. “Tonight might be our last night in this world. I don’t want to die without telling you first all those words I have kept locked inside my heart.”

Keith swallows, his mind returning to the innocence of their youth where they had whispered words of affection behind curtains, had stolen kisses when no-one was watching and had quick rendezvous in the privacy of the forest.

All that had been shattered when the war broke, raging like a galling storm and mercilessly making Keith chose between becoming the leader the Paladins needed over his love for Lance.

But now all those emotions rush to the surface and Keith feels them exploding inside him like the clash of swords.

"Lance,” he calls around the finger but Lance only silences him again and Keith flutters his eyes shut as he feels his breath against his cheek.

“It’s been too long,” Lance whispers, slowly straddling himself on Keith’s lap, his hands now circling his neck. Keith doesn’t even dare to open his eyes, the notion of Lance’s closeness intoxicating his senses. He's right; it has been too long since they had been this close. “This war took you from me. I won’t let tomorrow take you too.”

Keith’s hands tremble as he places them on Lance’s waist. For some reason he treats him like he’s made of glass, too fragile and precious to be handled vulgarly.

Lance pulls at his hair slightly, tilting his head back and Keith’s eyes snap open. He stares into sinful blue eyes. Even in the dim they shine brighter than the moon and they stare at him, solely him, in an almost drunken haze and it’s all Keith can do not to break him in his arms.

Instead, he simply lifts a hand and caresses Lance’s jaw, watching as he shivers at the touch and relishing in it.

“I miss you,” Keith says and Lance’s breath hitches, his eyes widen and his face visibly reddens. “I’ve been missing you for so long it aches.”

"No, you don’t get to say anything until I’m done,” Lance covers his mouth again and Keith chuckles, Lance’s face splitting into such an amused beam it was almost like they were young again. “But I’ve missed you too.”

Lance pulls Keith into a tight embrace. He can feel the way Lance’s heart beat against his chest, mirroring his own pumping yearning as if it were just one. And he returns it, letting him know just how much his words were true; he did miss him so much.

And while in his arms Keith didn't care about the fight, the battle or tomorrow.


	2. Part 2

The battle raged on like a storm in the ocean, ruthless and merciless, taking no prisoners and destroying everything in its path. Swords clashed, lifeless bodies tumbled, blood was spilled and lives were scythed.

The clouds cried for the fallen as they dropped their tears of agony, watching the heart/breaking red scenery below them. The Gods roared in pain, lightning bolts slicing the skies and thunder drowning the yells of the dying men.

Keith lost all sense of time, his sword finally connecting with the Galra's vicious leader, watching the dark blood gush out of the wound before he falls to his knees, eyes glazed and shocked, horror etched in his ugly features.

He tries to speak but all that comes out is a gurgle and Keith watches in a dazed marvel as Zarkon, Emperor of the Galra, drops to the tainted grass, one last breath shuddering his body until silence descends around them all.

The silence is crushing for a tick, until screams of victory erupt from his Paladins knights and shrieks of fear burst forth from the remaining Galra as they realise what had transpired.

But Keith is deaf to all that; he blindly looks at the battlefield, a terrifying sight blemished by the motionless bodies unceremoniously discarded to the side, so many souls haunting the earth until the final goodbye.

Both sides have lost so many worthy warriors, their loyalty and their bravery a respectful trait Keith will forever honour and respect, their loss a burden he will forever bear on his shoulders.

And as he ponders all this, he searches for one particular person amidst the chaos, his heart mimicking the thunder that splits the air in such rumble that shakes the ground beneath his feet.

He searches and he searches until he’s numb with a cold sense of dread, the weight on his chest compressing his lungs and he can’t breathe.

He’s aware of someone trying to talk to him, one of his Paladins but he mutes him, taking off through the battlefield and frantically searching.

He doesn’t stop until he sees the familiar armour and for an unbearable moment, his entire soul shakes in panic.

The lion embossed on the chest plate is smeared with dirt and blood, the helmet long forgotten in the haste of battle and the sword tainted scarlet red with blood. The hand that holds it shakes violently while the other clasps tightly at a wound on the arm.

The relief that washes over Keith is overwhelming; he can barely breathe as he runs the short distance between them, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

And he can see the same emotions cross Lance’s features before he engulfs him in his arms, filling the emptiness with his warmth and presence and not letting go.

“Lance,” he whispers and can feel Lance reciprocate the embrace, the scenery of death around them completely forgotten now that they were in each other’s arms. “It’s over. We won.”

Lance pulls away just enough to press their foreheads together.

Keith can see the trail of silent tears in his face, can read the lines of pain and sorrow in the shadow of his eyes, can feel the shuddering of exhaustion in the way he holds onto him.

But the smile Lance gives him, the one he reserves for Keith and Keith alone, tells him of the love they shared, the previous night coming back with the prospect of a future they once thought impossible to achieve.

Until now.

"You did it," Lance says, the pride in his voice noticeable and swelling within Keith's chest, his heart pumping frantically.

"No, _we_ did it,"

  
“I love you,” Lance declares, breathing out the words as if sighing in utter liberation, as if this new dawn allowed him to finally release his true feelings.

"I love you too," Keith replies, truthful and sincere and from the depths of his soul.

Keith brings his hand up to cup Lance’s cheek and leads his lips to meet Lance’s, tasting the tears mingled with the flavour of victory that allows them to dream of a tomorrow when the war has, at long last, ended.

**Author's Note:**

> First published on Instagram (username: @/eleanoramckogane)


End file.
